


Red

by darkinsidehim (PJTL156)



Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), Youtubers, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Cheating, Depression, Gen, Markiplier Manor, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27215626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PJTL156/pseuds/darkinsidehim
Summary: Mark watches the rain pelt outside as an old friend attempts to console him. But the actor has already made up his mind. Nothing will save him now.
Relationships: Actor Mark & Damien, Actor Mark/Celine
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of Celine and Mark's past relationship, cheating, and suicide.   
> I hope you like my little oneshot I wrote today. Please tell me if you did. It means the world.

A lonesome man stares out the bedroom window of his overwhelmingly large mansion. For once the sunshine and beautiful California weather wasn't mocking him. Rain pattered senselessly against the old window pane. It cleared off the dust of the autumn breeze and ashes of previous fires. 

There he stood for hours. Mind elsewhere. Cigar in hand. Huffing away. Smoke filling the once beautiful room. His life draining with each puff.

“Let it,” he remarked aggressively. 

It didn't matter anyway. He wouldn't be long for this world. 

Celine was gone. She had fallen for another. That bastard William had stolen her away from him. His wife left him broken and scattered across the floor like old fragile china. No matter how much glue and force he used, the pieces just wouldn't fuse back together. His soul refused to be whole again. 

Mark bites on the tip of the cigar until it snaps off in his mouth. Agitated and hating the taste, Mark spits it onto the floor. He doesn't much care. Benjamin can clean it up when he's gone. Frankly he doesn't give a shit about his surroundings anymore. Once he wanted a clean and spotless house. One that showed his grand stature in the world of the arts. The thespian reveled on the totems of gold people would place him upon. Their praise sang in his heart at all hours. Urging him on. Giving him an ego bigger than the colossal mansion could contain. No one cared anymore. Especially not Mark. None of their praises could ever fix this. It's all so unimportant now. 

Ashes fall upon the floor, splattering grey across the carpet. The man digs his oxford into it, staining the cream carpet a depressing color. It matches the unwanted emotions swirling like demons inside his chest. 

'Good luck getting that out,' Mark internally snides. 

It's not the only stain he's about to leave tonight. That one will be much bolder. A mockingly warm color. A hue of life and love. Two things he doesn't have any longer. 

Mark watches as a slick black car pulls up. It's a beautiful new Packard. The driver stops, brakes squealing from the rain. An umbrella and a serious looking man steps out of the passenger side. He's wearing an expensive suit that he doesn't dare tarnish with rain. An air of dignity whips around him. The rain couldn't disrupt his perfectly slicked back hair if it tried. 

As he saunters up to the steps a small smile pulls at Mark's features. It barely shows yet it's there all the same. He knows the man well. Better than most. But the other doesn't know Mark as well as he thinks. Mark watches Damien disappear before hearing a deafening knock. No one will answer. Not Benjamin. Not the chef. No one. He'd sent them all away, feigning anger instead of a deeply pulling sadness. It paid to be an actor. People couldn't see your soul-crushing pain. 

There's another knock. And another. The mayor refuses to leave. 

Shaking his head softly, Mark smiles wider. It doesn't meet his eyes. 

"Oh, Damien. You always were so stubborn." 

Eventually his old friend gives in. Damien is seen again, standing in the downfall on his driveway. His lifelong friend glances up at him. Almost as though he can see him through the window. However there's no recognition on his face. Mark is shrouded in total darkness. He knows there's no possibility Damien can see him. Yet somehow the man is looking right through him. Like he suspects it. Like some unforeseen spirit is whispering in his ear that tonight there will be a tragedy. 

Disappointed by Mark's absence, Damien walks back to his car. Rain pelts against his umbrella. It doesn't bother Damien one bit. Mark knows on any other day he would be politely complaining about the weather. But he was here for Mark. His best friend. His lifelong confidante. If Mark had the strength he would have let him in. Enveloped him in his arms. Told him all his fears. All his sadness and overwhelming pain. The astonishment of finding them together. How crushing it had been to lose the one he loved so dear. He would’ve let his pride fly out the window and let Damien see the maimed and bloody monster buried deep inside. 

But Mark can't do that. He doesn't want Damien to suffer because of him. The poor man had never wronged him. Not like the others. 

Knowing it's no use, Damien gives in. He slides into the passenger seat and shakes the umbrella dry before shutting the door. The dejected mayor stares up at the bedroom window one last time. Willing Mark to come down. Daring him to take a chance and let Damien in. 

It's been months since they've seen each other. Mark just couldn't do it. It was too much pain to bare. Celine had tore away all of his will to live. She ripped at his skin one layer at a time. Peeling it back with her teeth. Savage eyes glaring through him as she smiled wickedly, blood smeared across white teeth. She knew exactly how much she had harmed him. Destroyed him. Killed him. Made him suffer for her sins. She didn't care. Mark wonders sometimes if she ever did. Maybe he was just a convenience. A nice bank account. A gigantic house. A comfortable, cushy life with everything handed to her. Celine up on a marble pedestal Mark had painstakingly chiseled away for her. He'd done everything in his life for her. To make her happy. To give her what she deserved. Or so he thought. Now she was off fucking someone he always considered family. A man he thought he could trust with his very life. 

Sighing, Mark turns toward the corner table. A cold hand fishes into his pocket. He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper littered with his shaky handwriting and sets it on the table. Once he smooths it out he picks up a picture of all four of them. Happy. Smiling. Content with their lives thus far. Mark sees it now for what it really was. An illusion. Celine wasn't his any longer. They had been messing around behind his back even back then. He and Damien had been none the wiser. No one suspected a thing. Until Mark came home early one night. He'd found William on top of her. Making love to his wife. Pleasuring her in a way that no man but him ever should. If William hadn't grabbed his gun, Mark would have shot them both dead that night. He wasn't thinking straight. Every instinct said to kill them. Like a crazed animal, jealously had a strangle hold on his every emotion. All he wanted was to see the life drain from both their eyes just as his had finding them together. 

With a heavy hand, Mark sets down the picture frame. He picks up something else instead. It's cold. And heavier than he remembered. Uncomfortably important and dangerous. Yet it feels good in his hands. He watches out the wide window as Damien's car pulls out of the driveway. When he can no longer see his friend, Mark takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and pulls the trigger. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've been in a bad place the last couple days, so I channeled my emotional support bastard.   
> I know it's not much, but comments are greatly appreciated.


End file.
